Toxic
by kazumigirl
Summary: Slade has Robin again, and this time, he's giving the boy wonder 3 months to accept his place as Slade's apprentice. Rated M for language, violence, and sexual content. Yah...you know you wanna read
1. Stripped

Stockholm syndrome

_**Toxic**_

_**Stockholm syndrome**__. a psychological response sometimes seen in an abducted hostage, in which the hostage shows signs of loyalty to the hostage-taker, regardless of the danger (or at least risk) in which he has been placed._

Robin could not believe that he had been in the pitch black room for so long. How long had it been, come to think of it? Two days? Three days? It was so dark that he could not see his hands in front of his face. He stopped pacing around and sat a far corner of the confined space. _His_ corner, as he had little to claim. Little to do. He half sighed, half groaned, and began to lightly beat the back of his head against the rough, stone wall. After a few minutes, he began to do it harder, and harder. Hard enough to make his mind dizzy and throbbing at the same time. It was one of the few things he had to pass the time. He had never been captured by Slade like this before. The first few times, Slade had wanted him to be his _apprentice_ and threatened him with his friends, the city, civillians. After that, he had just flat-out taken him to his lair and sparred with him, trying to taunt him. Trying to make him want it. Now, however, he had just rendered him unconsious with a blow to the head and this is where Robin awoke…so long ago, stripped down to his boxers and socks (the socks he had already taken off because the room was hot and the sweat had just been unbearable). He wasn't even wearing his mask, which made him feel even more naked than the lack of pants.

Perhaps Slade was really just tired of him and had decided to kill him. The thought didn't surprise Robin. The man didn't seem to be one for a quick kill. He liked things done in a torturous manner, and starving one to death half-clothed with no light seemed pretty tormenting. He continued to beat his head, hoping he could just knock himself out. At least when he was asleep, he was not bored out of his mind.

"You may be hard-headed, but your head's not that _thick_," the sound of a dead bolt unlocking made Robin sit up abruptly.

Light suddenly filled the small cell, though it wasn't a lot, but enough to make him squint uncomfortably. Slade's massive figure filled the doorway, and Robin sprung to his feet in a fighting stance. The masked man did nothing, and the boy lunged at him with a flying kick. "Gerraahhh!!"

Slade merely stepped out of the way, and Robin flew out the door, landing on the floor. He looked around to notice a long, dimly lit hallway, and glared at Slade. "Where am I?! What have you done with my friends?!"

The villain shook his head slightly. "Look at you, Robin. Unmasked, undressed, dirty, bruised." He swiftly took the boy by the wrist and squeezed it hard. "And you're demanding things from me."

"Ahh!" Had Slade always had this heck of a grip? Robin winced as the man squeezed harder.

"Let me let you in on a little secret, Robin," Slade bent his arm back, making Robin cry out even more. "I've been very patient with you. Extremely patient." He held his firm grasp on the boy's arm, which was now starting to turn a faint purple. "But even my patience wears thin, and I've just about had with your defiance."

"I'm not gonna work for you!" Robin growled through gritted teeth. "NEVER!!"  
"Three months, Robin," Slade suddenly released his arm. "I'm going to give you three months to change your mind." He slammed the boy up against the nearest wall and his single exposed eye glittered. "And you'll be surprised when you find out what three months with me can do to you."

"I'm not scared of you," Robin informed him.

"Not _yet_, you mean," Slade replied, pulling him away from the wall and parading him back to the dark room by the back of his neck. He shoved him inside and said, "Our three months begins now."

He then shut the door, locked it, and the sound of the dead bolt echoed through the building, whatever it was.

--

Things seemed different when you were about to die, and right now, Robin wasn't so sure he he'd live to test that theory out. He was starving, he knew he was. Not for food either. Well, of course for food, but he mostly wanted water, His mouth was so dry, so nasty feeling. He hadn't brushed his teeth in forever. His hair was matted and oily. But most of all, his stomach was empty. His abdomen throbbed. He needed something in his body. He now spent his time lying on the floor, sometimes on his back, sometimes on his stomach, pretending he didn't need food. Pretending he didn't need to be clean. Pretending he didn't need light and human interaction. He was, however, tired of pretending, and felt he was really going to die.

"It's been three days." The door unlocked and Slade stepped in. "Do you think you're ready to leave your cage?"

Robin sat up, slightly confused about what was going on. Not just Slade, but everything. He felt as if he were asleep and dreaming. The kind of dreams that don't make a lot of sense after you wake up. He winced slightly as something hit his head, but he soon realized it was only water, and he knew Slade was pouring it on him from a container. It was welcoming and painful at the same time, and Robin suddenly felt ashamed as his hands cupped together, attempting to catch it and drink it. It didn't seem to be enough, and he pressed his lips to wet arms, suddenly needing the liquid more than anything.

"Thirsty?" Slade oozed sarcastically.

Robin stopped, his eyes on the floor. He did not want Slade to know how embarrassed he was. After all, it was hard for fifteen year olds to comprehend that the body can only take so much before it ignores the mind, pride and all.

"Come on," Slade pulled him up by his arm and prodded him to the open doorway. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Robin staggered slightly as he walked down the hallway, _pulled_ down the hallway was more like it. His stomach hurt so bad. He had cramps and nausea at the same time, Is this what starvation felt like? Slade led him to a shiny white room, too bright for Robin's unadjusted eyes, and pointed to a showerhead in the far corner. The boy's mind immediately processed _water_ and his mouth watered. He took a peek at Slade from the corner of his eye and made his way over to the showerhead. He gingerly fingered the single knob attached to the wall, as if it would bite him, and when it did nothing, he began to turn it. Slade grabbed his hand. "That's _my_ knob," he informed him. He eyed the boy up and down and ordered, "strip."

Robin's mind suddenly seemed to click on, as if he finally remembered who and where he was. "NO!"

Slade pulled him back roughly and said, "Very well. Let's go back to your room."

The dark room. The room with no sense of time. No interaction with anything. The room Robin would rather die than go back to. "No!" He squirmed. "Stop it! No!"

"Then do as I say and take off your clothes!" Slade growled, leaning into the struggling boy's face.

Robin's face turned beat-red as he stepped out of his boxers, and pretended he was at home in his own shower. As the shower ran, he drank as much of the water as he could. It seemed like he couldn't get enough. After he'd had his fill, he noticed Slade was gone. He also noticed there was a bottle of generic shampoo and soap near his feet. As well as a towel nearby. He washed himself quickly, and picked up the towel to wrap it around his waist. Surprisingly, there was a pair of boxers, black pants and black short-sleeved shirt under the towel. He dressed just as quickly as he'd washed up, and was a bit disappointed the clothes were a tad too big for him. They'd have to do, of course, because he wasn't going to sit around in his underwear again.

"That was fast." Slade reentered the shower room and picked up the towel from the floor. He pulled the boy by the back of his shirt closer and roughly began to dry his hair with the damp cloth. Robin grunted slightly, feeling like he was in a washing machine, and Slade tossed the towel to the side.

"Where are my shoes?" Robin demanded, though not too bluntly in fear of being taken back to the _tomb_ again. "And, my…" he felt around his eyes, suddenly feeling vulnerable again.

"You are not going to wear shoes unless you are training," Slade informed him. "And as for your mask, I've decided you have no right to keep your identity from me." He smirked behind his own mask. "_Richard Grayson_."

Robin awkwardly looked down at his feet, wriggling his bare toes. He'd never thought about it before, but being fully dressed without shoes in a place that's not your own house could make you feel just as naked as anything. Slade tugged at the boy's shirt collar and ordered, "Follow me."

"Why?" Robin's eyes narrowed. He knew it was a mistake the second it came out, and actually covered his mouth.

"That's what I thought," Slade said cooly.

The boy followed the man down many twist and turns of the empty building until they reached a large, black door. Robin's heart fell slightly, assuming he was about to be shut up in another dark room. Slade opened the door and Robin's brows furrowed in confusion. It was a bare room, sparcely furnished by a bed and a dresser. There was also a small bathroom on the right. Slade motioned for him to step in, and the boy cautiously did so. He looked around slowly, as if monsters might spring out from every nook and cranny, and touched one of the walls. Stone.

"This will be where you'll live," Slade informed him. "For a long time."

"My friends will find come for me," Robin turned to him. His assurance and spirit were now back.

"Whatever you say," Slade almost chuckled. "Anyway, until that day comes, this is where you will sleep, shower, sit." He moved towards the door. "And if you decide you want to be cocky or disobdient, the _other_ room works just as well."

The courage and pride that had just returned in the boy, vanished once more, and Robin shuddred inwardly at the thought of the other room. Slade snapped his fingers and commanded, "Come out now, you'll be used to your quarters soon enough."

--

Robin sat at the long table, staring at a plate of food before him. A sandwich and an assortment of raw fruit and vegetable chunks. His mouth watered and he swallowed hard. Slade motioned casually. "Eat. It has been a while, after all."

Robin did eat, and finished in about five minutes, cleaning the plate and downing half the glass of red liquid beside him before spitting it back in the glass. He made a face and Slade actually laughed. Robin had never heard him laugh before.

"Don't tell me the little Catholic boy has never tasted wine," he said.

Robin almost asked how he knew he was Catholic, but decided against it. He knew he did not want to drink wine, but what other choice did he have.

"Good for the blood," Slade informed him, sipping his own wine.

Robin sipped it too, cringing slightly. He honestly could care less if it was good for his blood. It was bitter and disgusting. 'Funny,' he thought. 'So is Slade'.

"I never guessed your eyes would be blue," The man suddenly said, peering at him.

Robin half shrugged, half sipped his wine as he squirmed uncomfortably in his already uncomfortable chair. How was he supposed to answer a comment like that anyway?

--

After dinner, Slade marched Robin to his new room, shutting and locking the door. Robin wasn't too thrilled with being locked up again, but at least he could see. At least he was full. At least he was dressed. He sat on the bed, his hands in his lap, figuring out what to do. How would he get out of here? He ventured to the bathroom and opened the cabinet above the sink. He was surprised to find toothpaste and face wash, but disappointed he didn't have any hair gel. He immediately felt silly, thinking his arch nemesis would actually provide him hair gel. He wasn't stupid, though. He dug around until he found some medical lotion and hand sanitizer mixed a glob of it together in his palm. He then used it to spike his limp, black hair, suddenly feeling more like himself again. It didn't spike as well as real gel, but almost. It worked, and that's what counted.

--

For days, Robin was locked in his room which he was now beginning to hate almost as much as the old one. He was only let out to eat and train. Oh, how he loved the training. Slade was rough and demanding about it, but Robin needed that hour and fiteen minutes of 'run-around' time. It felt normal fighting Slade, even if it was in a controlled environment. He could do just as he had before. Scream, growl, kick, do backflips, punch. He also got to wear his old steel-toed boots. However, the second the timer sounded, signaling the training time was up, Slade would take them back.

"You did well today, Robin," Slade said as the boy handed him one of the boots. "I'm proud of you."

Robin looked up at him from the floor where he was removing his other shoe, and almost beamed. He mentally chastised himself however, and glared instead. 'Don't give him what he wants', he scolded silently. 'You don't owe him anything. You don't _want_ anything from him'.

Slade took the other shoe and commanded, "Stand up, boy."

Robin stood. His shoulders slumped slightly, knowing he was going back to his room until the evening meal, but Slade said, "We're going to do a different kind of training now."

Robin eyed his shoes. "Won't I need those back then?"

"No." Slade walked over and put the boots against the far wall. He then walked over to a closed shelf and removed two items-a black, nylon rope, and a black blindfold. Robin's heart sped up and his hands raised slightly. As Slade got closer, Robin's hands flew to his neck.

"I'm not going to strangle you," Slade informed him sarcastically, taking both of the petite boy's hands in one of his and bringing them behind his back. He used the rope to tie them tightly. He then wrapped the blindfold around the boy's eyes.

"What are you going to do?" Robin asked, hoping the fear in his voice wasn't obvious.

"You'll see," was all Slade replied with, walking away.

To Be Continued…


	2. Tattoo

**Tattoo**

Robin could feel himself beginning to tremble as he heard Slade's heavy boots moving around the floor. He tried his best to stand still and his upper body complied pretty well, but his legs made him feel as if he'd just learned to walk. Slade's footsteps came closer and Robin almost wet himself when he heard the cock of a gun. Right next to his ear.

"As a real fighter," Slade informed him, rubbing the barrel of the gun along Robin's cheek. "You're going to be caught in situations in which you'll have only your instincts to rely on." He removed the gun. "So here's how the training's going to go." Robin could tell he had moved further away by the sound of his voice.

"I have a loaded gun, and the use of my eyes and hands."

Robin gulped. He did not like where this was going.

"And you, my dear boy, have only your legs and your ears." Slade had moved closer once more, but how much closer, Robin could not tell. "If you can get this gun away from me," he was now right at the boy's ear, whispering. "I'll let you go."

Hope surged through Robin and all impossible odds suddenly seemed possible. He would get that gun away. He heard Slade walk away and call from a distance, "Let's begin."

He was silent for a moment, and Robin listened carefully for any sign of the man-breathing, footsteps, shuffling, anything. As his ears worked on scouting, his fingers went to work trying to loosen the knot. A sharp pain suddenly came in contact with his skull, and it took Robin a moment to realize it had been the gun being bashed against the side of his head. The boy staggered slightly.

"Too slow," Slade's voice said, incredibly close to him as he toppled over. "Don't worry about your hands," the man told him. "Worry about your life."

Robin felt the gun touch the back of his head. He whipped himself around and threw a kick blindly, but without the use of his hands, he didn't have enough balance to land back on his feet. This went on for a good ten minutes and Robin felt Slade grab his arm and put the gun to the back of his head. "Any last words?" he oozed. "I guess I won't be letting you go after all."

The gun cocked and Robin struggled. No, Slade was bluffing. He had to be. What good would an apprentice be if their brains had been blown out? However, the gun fired and Robin cried out.

--

"Blanks." Slade said, removing the boy's blindfold and tossing it to the floor. "They really are worthless." He eyed Robin, amused. "Until used properly."

"You're sick," Robin said quietly, shaking his head.

"Thank you," Slade replied. He untied Robin's hands. "And if you think that was good," he returned the rope and blindfold to the cabinet. "In the future, those bullets will be real."

--

Robin tossed and turned that night. Reality had finally started to sink in that he might actually be there a long time. He was unusually cold and he wondered if it was because of fear. He sat up and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. Was he feeling nauseous as well? Probably because of the day's previous events. He untucked the blanket from the side of the bed and pulled it up to his chin. It did little to help his chills or his upset stomach. He felt like crying. Here he was in the bed of his worst enemy against his will, maybe for the remainder of his life. Well, the remainder of Slade's life anyway. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours (though he didn't know for sure because there was no clock in the room). He had finally just started to drift to sleep when a wave of nausea swept through him. He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet.

It took only seconds for him to vomit, and though he hated heaving up food and wine he'd already partially digested, he loved the fact that his stomach instantly felt better. At least for another hour or so. Robin continued to make frequent trips to the bathroom, cold and sleepy. He sighed as he threw up for what seemed like the hundredth time and after flushing the toilet, he leaned his head on the seat and closed his eyes, still shivering.

"Not feeling too good, huh?"

Robin sat up and whipped his head around to see Slade wringing out a damp cloth in the sink. He then knelt down beside the boy and proceeded to wipe his face. Normally, Robin would have fought and struggled. However, he was exhausted and had chills so he did nothing. His eyes drooped heavily and he struggled to stay awake as Slade removed one of his gloves and felt his forehead. He didn't say anything. He just put the glove back on and motioned for the boy to stand up. He prodded him back to the bed, but before Robin could lay back down, Slade grabbed the tail of his shirt with both hands and went to work trying to pull it over the boy's head. _Now_ Robin struggled.

"What are you doing?!" He croaked. "Leave me alone!"

"Shut up!" Slade snapped in his dull droll. "Your body temperature's too high." He threw the shirt on the floor and leaned into Robin's face. "And ill or not, I will put you back in that room."

Robin only shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. Slade nudged him into the bed and yanked the comforter off, only leaving the thin white sheets. Robin didn't lay down, but instead, stood back up.

"I'm not doing this anymore!" He cried hoarsely. "You don't own me!"

With that, he darted past Slade and raced out into the open hallway and kept running.

--

Every part of him felt heavy, as if he were wading through water, but he didn't care. He continued to run until he reached a dead end and he leaned his dizzy head against the wall, panting heavily. He heard the heavy boots and closed his eyes. Slade the whipped the boy around roughly by the shoulder and slammed him back into the wall. Robin held his scorching forehead for a moment, but Slade removed his hand and held it firmly.

"Let me make one thing clear, Robin," he hissed. "I do own you. Call me demented, insane, whatever you want. I don't really care." He squeezed his hand painfully hard. "But it is as it is."

"The Titans will come," Robin choked through gritted teeth. "And we've never lost to you before."

"Will your former room break that record?" Slade jerked him forward. "Let's find out."

"Do whatever you fucking want!" Robin spat out as the older man pulled him down the hall. "I'm ready to die!"

They went through many corridors and Robin squirmed and fought the whole way. Slade, however, took him into another room, one that looked much like a dental office. It even had the chair. The man threw him into the chair, and removed a pair of handcuffs from his belt. Robin quickly scrambled out of the seat, but Slade placed a massive hand on his chest, forcing him back down. He handcuffed one of Robin's wrists to a metal bar on the side of the chair. The boy tugged, partly standing up, and once again, Slade forced him back down.

"I didn't want to do this," Slade said, removing his hand and walking to the other side of the room to dig around in a high cabinet. "At least not tonight.

He came back to the chair with what looked like a motorized syringe. He clicked the tip and it began to vibrate. Robin's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he desperately tried to figure out what was going on. Slade removed a little paper square from his belt and dipped it into a small basin of water beside the chair. He then took Robin's free hand in his own massive one and turned it over, palm up. The boy squirmed, and Slade's grip tightened. He pressed the paper just below the boy's wrist, almost at his forearm and removed it after a moment or so. Robin frowned when he saw it left Slade's symbol on his skin. Slade picked up the vibrating needle and it suddenly seemed to dawn on Robin what was going to happen. He was struggling frantically now, but Slade's grasp was too strong. Robin growled painfully as the needle came into contact with his flesh, tracing the S. After it was done, Slade released the boy's hand and Robin immediately brought the aching wound to his lips. Slade chuckled. "It's not something that washes off, Robin." He uncuffed the boy and dragged him to another part of the room, partially hidden by a thin, plastic curtain. He pulled back the makeshift wall and Robin felt sicker than ever. It was a table. The kind people were operated on. With wrist and ankle restraints.

"Climb on," Slade ordered.

"No!" Robin sounded more unsure than defiant.

Slade grabbed his wrist once more, digging into the new sore. "I don't really care to repeat myself."

Robin started to do as he was told, but Slade stopped him.

"Face down," he corrected.

"Why?" Robin asked meekly, starting to slide his bottom off the table.

"Because I said so!" Slade grabbed a fistful of his hair and gave it a good, hard yank.

The boy complied and Slade approached his head. "I'm not going to restrain you," he informed him. "But if you decide you're going to get cocky, things are going to be very miserable for you."

--

Robin lay awake, shivering under the sheets. He was still nauseous, still feverish, but nothing felt worse than the too permanent markings on his body. The little S on his wrist, and the big one on the middle of his back. For the first time since he'd been there, he cried. He pulled the sheets over his shivering form and sobbed quietly. This was not just a bad dream like he'd tried to convince himself. This was a full-blown nightmare.

--

"That was pathetic," Slade scoffed as Robin staggered backwards after taking a bone-crunching blow to his left eye. "What's the matter with you today?"

Robin didn't answer. He knew as well as Slade that he was in no condition to fight. He was still achy and feverish. He held his throbbing eye and hoped the man would just hurry up and be done with him. Slade punched him again, this time in the gut, and Robin doubled over.

"Get up," Slade ordered. He kicked him this time.

Robin shook his head. "Just kill me," he told him. He felt bad enough, he honestly wouldn't care if Slade followed through. He was miserable beyond being miserable. Slade made a snorting sound behind his mask, a laugh, and jerked Robin up by the arm. "Would you really like me to kill you?"  
"I really would," Robin said bitterly. "I honestly, truly, without a doubt wish you would."

Slade tossed him back onto the floor. "Well then I'm not going to kill you."

He left the training grounds, leaving Robin to lie on the floor, rubbing his face against the hard floor.

--

Robin sat in bed, staring at the tattoo on his wrist. It would be there forever, unless Robin got out and could have it laser removed. He bit his wrist, for no apparent reason other than hating the symbol and rocked himself back and forth. He bit harder, hoping he would start to bleed and die of blood loss. He had never wished to die before, but now in his condition, he wanted nothing more. Not just because he was sick, but because he had lost all hope of escaping, of his friends rescuing him. Where did they think he was? Why hadn't they found him yet? Tears burned in his eyes and he blinked them back. What if they had just given up on him? What if they had decided it wasn't worth their time? What if they had decided things were better without him? What if Starfire…the tears began to fall. Oh, God, how he missed Stafire. She was his crush, of course, but Robin needed her right now for more than just a pretty face. He would give anything for her to hold him, to tell him everything was going to be alright. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. Crying was not going to help his situation.

--

"How are the markings?" Slade asked as the two ate dinner. Slade ate fish, and Robin had broth and dry toast to be easy on his stomach.

The boy only shrugged, stirring his spoon around in the clearish liquid.

"I was thinking when you feel better," Slade sipped his wine. "We might go out for dinner in a few days." He stared at his glass. "Maybe see a movie. Anything out that all the kids are raving about?"

Robin stared at him. Something was definitely up. They both knew Robin had no interest in dinner or a movie. Only being out in public and escaping. When the boy said nothing, Slade sighed slightly. "It was just a thought."

"You're planning something else," Robin said quietly.

"Well, there was this device I wanted to steal from Cybertronics," Slade shrugged slightly. "I just thought it might be nice if we did something afterward."

Robin didn't know if he was playing a cruel joke or if he just didn't think Robin had the skills of escaping. The boy pondered this quickly and silently, trying to decide how to answer. Slade watched him fidget uncomfortably and said, "Don't worry, Robin. I wouldn't let anyone take you away."

"You know I'd find a way to get away," Robin informed, not knowing if it was the right thing to say.

"Oh you could escape," Slade agreed. "It would be easy. You're a clever and cunning individual." He leaned over his plate. "But I would just find a way to get you again, and once I caught you, you would not be happy that I did."

Robin said nothing and Slade stood up, motioning for Robin to stand too. "Let's take you to your room."

--

Robin lay awake yet again that night, this time filled with excitement and hope. The hell with Slade. Robin would get away, and he would find a way to never come back. Even if he had to pack up his friends and move back to Gotham, he would not be in Slade's clutches again.

--

To Be Continued…


	3. Never Coming

Never Coming

Slade never mentioned the idea an outing again after that night. Everything that happened in that building followed through according to schedule, inside. Slade kept Robin locked in his room unless they were training or eating. Fortunately, for Robin, they had started training twice a day. Slade had also allowed Robin to use a bo staff during the spars. Of course, he always took it away as soon as they were done, just like his shoes. Robin had felt so much more like himself when Slade handed him that pole that he almost didn't let go of it. He knew if he didn't comply, though, he'd probably never get to hold it again.

He'd only been half disappointed by the outing idea. Part of him had never really expected it to happen anyway. So it really surprised him when Slade brought a stack of clothes to his room one morning. A tshirt, pair of bluejeans, socks, sneakers, and a baseball cap. Robin stared at the outfit Slade handed him and then at the masked man.

"If we're going out," he explained, adding a pair of sunglasses to the stack. "I can't have people recognize you."

Robin's heart suddenly swelled and his heartbeat sped up. It was happening. It was really happening. They were leaving the building. They'd be out in pulic. With people. Slade left the room and Robin dressed quickly, feeling odd about putting on the sneakers. He went into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Slade had been right. It would be hard for anyone to recognize him.

"Ready to go?" Slade asked, coming back into the room a while later.

"What do you want me to steal?" Robin asked, hitching up his pants that were still a bit too big. He even had to roll up the bottoms.

"A chip," Slade replied casually. "Not mine. It's for somebody else." He picked up the pair of sunglasses Robin left on the bed and put them on the boy's face. Robin almost pulled away, but didn't. 'Do what he wants,' he ordered silently. 'He's letting you out. Do whatever the fuck he wants so you can get out'.

"I just get paid to steal it," Slade continued. He prodded Robin to the door. "That's what I have you for. _I _get paid for _your_ hard work."

--

They made their way to the gym and Robin fidgeted anxiously. What were they doing back in here? They needed to go! They needed to hurry up and leave! His fingers dug into the sides of his jeans, clawing at the rough material, and when Slade turned around, hearing the noise, Robin jammed his hands deep into his pockets. Slade walked over to the cabinet that held the rope and blindfold and removed them. Robin frowned skeptically.

"Take off the glasses," Slade ordered.

Robin did so. 'Don't argue,' he continued to inwardly bark. 'Don't ask questions'. Slade tied the blindfold around his eyes and then used the rope to tie his hands. He almost laughed at how the boy just allowed him to do so. When he was finished, he explained, "I'll remove them when we're a good distance from this location." He leaned down, almost in Robin's ear. "I can't have you running away now, can I?"

--

Slade clasped his fingers around the rope bindings between Robin's hands and marched him blindly around the building. Down stairs, up stairs, turning corners, going through doors. Robin wondered if Slade lived a funhouse. They finally stopped, and Robin heard the sound of a keypad, followed by the sound of a door opening. His heart skipped a beat. He heard birds, and bees, and traffic. Slade untied him, and before he removed the blindfold, he said, "You're going to go into Cybertronics. There's no one there today except for a few security guards." Robin felt him place an earpiece in his ear, this time more like a hearing aid than a bud like he had used before. "I'll direct you to the chip, you'll get it, and then meet me behind the lab." He took the boy's blindfold off. "Got it?"

Robin didn't answer, but instead looked around. They were standing at the top of an underground staircase. Did Slade have tunnels going all over the city? He winced slightly as Slade grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking hard. "Got it?" He repeated, more forcefully this time. The boy nodded.

--

The chip was not hard to get, and Robin wondered why he hadn't just gotten it himself? He made his way to the outside through the back of the building and noticed Slade wasn't there. This was it. This was his chance to escape. He swallowed hard, eyeing the large, stone fence that surrounded the building. The fence wouldn't be a problem. He'd hopped even electric fences before. It was the idea that he might get over and Slade would be waiting for him. He heard cars and people on the other side, and that gave him hope. Slade wouldn't try and abduct him in front of a bunch of people. The police would show up. They would have guns. The Titans would show up. He found himself moving towards the fence. The Titans would show up, and everything would be right again. He began climbing the wall, and made his way to the top. People. He saw people. He rolled over the top and landed on his feet. A few people glanced his way, but kept walking. Robin's legs shook as he looked around-shops, restaurants, public offices. It was all here. He sighed heavily and darted across the busy street, cars honking at him. He clutched his cap as he ignored the loud noises and ran into the nearest shop-a corner store.

"Hey there," A friendly cashier greeted him. An older man with false teeth. "What can I do for you , young fella?"

"Do you have a phone?" Robin asked quietly, his eyes darting wildly behind the shades. He knew Slade would never come in. Not in his mask.

"Um," The man looked around. "We have a phone in the office." He walked out from behind the counter and touched Robin's back. The boy inhaled sharply, and the man removed his hand. 'Stop it!' Robin told himself silently. 'People can touch you! Let them touch you!'. The man led him to a small make-shift office in a large store closet and pointed to a cord phone on a cluttered card table.

"That'll work for you, young fella?" The man smiled brightly.

"That's fine," Robin tried to smile. "Thank you."

He waited for the man to leave, and when he did, he closed the closet door, and locked it. He walked over to the phone and picked up the voice piece. He shakily dialed a number and held the phone to his ear, trembling. It rang once, twice, three times, four times, five times. Robin felt his stomach doing summersaults. Six times, seven times. He heard a noise outside of the door and nearly jumped. 'It's just the store', he told himself. Eight times, nine times.

"Hello."

Robin's breath caught in his throat.

"You've reached Bruce Wayne. I'm not available right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you."

Robin held the phone like it was his life source. He licked his lips which suddenly felt dry. "Batman-Bruce…_Dad_," he said quietly. "It's me, Robin…_Dick_. Listen, as soon as you get this message, please come to Jump city. I really need you. Please."

"I'm already here, Robin."

The earpiece Slade had put in his ear. Robin had forgotten all about it. Slade had just heard everything. Robin started to remove the device when Slade said, "Don't you dare, young man."

"I'm not listening to you anymore!" Robin suddenly yelled. "You're not taking me back there!" Defiance swelled in him. "You _can't_!" He ripped the device out and threw it on the floor. That's when he jumped. As the device hit the floor, a large, glove-clad hand reached down and picked it up. Standing in the now open doorway of the closet, was Slade himself.

"I can't, can I?" He dusted the device off and moved closer to Robin. "Who's the boss here, Robin?"

The boy ducked and raced past him, stopping in his tracks. The store clerk lay dead on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding him. A bullet hole in his spine. Beside him, an elderly woman. His wife, most likely. Robin began to shake violently, not sure if his legs would hold his weight anymore. He shook his head slightly, fighting back tears. Slade approached him, putting the clip back on the boy's ear. "Pity when you don't do what you're told and pay the consequences."

"Why?" Robin asked. "Why them and not me? I did it! Not them!"

"That's right," Slade, placed his hands on the boy's shoulders firmly. "_You_ did it, Robin."

"No!" Robin pulled away. "That's not what I meant! _You_ did it!"

"You need some fresh air," Slade's voice almost held amusement. "Why don't we get you back home?"

"No!" Robin tore out of the store, turning the corner, and down the street. He had no idea where he was going, but he was definitely going somewhere. It didn't matter where. He was getting away from Slade, and that's all that mattered. He threw off the sunglasses as he ran blindly and tears burned in his eyes. He suddenly hit something and stumbled to his feet to see it was a dog walker with five or six dogs.

"Sorry about that," the man chuckled.

Robin ignored him and turned to run in the other direction. He had been too distracted to see it was a busy street. Car horns blared as the boy staggered around in the street between vehicles, clutching his cap, his knees buckling, as if he'd never seen any of this before. He was beginning to panic, and he wasn't even sure why. 'Get out of the street!' His mind screamed before being smothered by the image of the store clerk and his wife. His legs had just started to move when he felt himself lose his balance and fly forward. Car tires screeched. Robin lie on the ground, face-down, pain searing his lower back.

"Oh my God!" A woman screamed. "Is he dead?! Did I kill him?!"

"Little boy?" A man's voice. "Little boy can you hear me?"

"Somebody call 911!" Another man's voice.

"I didn't see him! I didn't know he was in the street! I'm-Oh God, I'm sorry!"

The pain throbbed in Robin and he felt himself losing consciousness. At least he heard people. He heard 911. He heard _help_. They were taking him away from Slade. He was safe. He was _free._

--

Robin groaned as he came to, fire licking torn flesh at the base of his spine. He winced slightly and felt a hand press against the back of his neck. He was on his stomach, on a bed. The hospital?

"I asked you to get a chip, and you go and get yourself hit by a car."

Robin's eyes widened and he closed them. No, no, no, no. This couldn't be real. He heard people. He knew they were there! He felt cotton swabs, alcohol, bandages. He smelled all of them too. He reached up and felt his ear. The earpiece was no longer there.

"You'll be alright in a few days," Slade said dryly. "You're lucky you were just bumped."

"How did you get me back?" Robin buried his face in the pillow. He was back in his bed. The bed he hated to call his.

"It was difficult," Slade oozed, removing himself from the bed. "With all those people around, but I managed." Robin felt one of his gloved fingers trace the tattoo on his back and it gave him goose bumps. "Now I just have to think of a good punishment for you."

"Why don't you kill me?" The boy suggested bitterly.

"Not good enough," Slade replied.

He left the room and it was then that Robin's memory fully kicked in. His heart sunk. He had not pressed the 'send' button when he left Batman's message. Batman would not get it. He would _never_ get it.

--

Robin slept for a few hours, and lay awake for several more. His back hurt, but it was not unbearable. Slade never once entered the room. Not that Robin cared. He preferred it that way. After a while, he traveled into the bathroom and climbed onto the countertop, which was awkwardly small. He leaned one palm against the far wall, which wasn't far at all and turned himself around the best he could. The abrasion from the car was fairly large, but mostly covered by a bandage. The tattoo, however, was perfectly fine. Robin grimaced. He hopped back down and walked around the bedroom, rubbing his sore through the medical bindings. He sat down, leaning against the wall. Batman wasn't coming for him, The Titans weren't coming for him. Nobody was coming for him. He was stuck with Slade. He buried his face in his hands. 'No! No! No! I have to get out!' His mind screamed.

--

Robin no longer yearned to have a since of time. He knew he couldn't have been there longer than a month, if that, but he was now bitter towards time. Bitter that it was not on his side. His back was nearly healed, but a faint scar was there. Slade had taken away his bo staff privelages. Robin pretended not to care, but he had treated that staff as a life line. Something to hold onto and remind him of who he was, just in case he ever forgot. He continued to train, continued to sit in his lonely room, which seemed to get smaller and smaller everyday. He continued to hate Slade. To back-talk him, to be slapped, to have his arm twisted. He had only been taken to the dark room once and left there for what seemed like a week though Slade had informed him it had only been four hours. Robin had swore Slade would never break his spirit, and he held to that with everything he was worth.

"That was pathetic!" Slade backhanded the boy. "I know you can do better!"

Robin wiped sweat from his forehead and lunged at the man again. Instead of punching him, however, he flipped onto his hands, his feet in the air, and sent a kick to the man's face. Slade grabbed him by his ankles and tossed him to the side. Like a toy. Robin landed against the wall, his head hitting the concrete pretty hard, and he stood back up. He ran towards the man again, punching, kicking, anything he could think of. He wanted him dead. He wanted to him to stop talking. Slade punched him in the face, causing Robin to almost see stars, and the boy fell to his stomach, clutching his aching jaw. Slade kicked him in the ribcage.

"Are you going to stop playing around now and get serious?" He asked calmly.

He then stepped on Robin's hand with his heavy boot and the boy cried out, trying to move it.

"I haven't got all day," Slade told him. He then knelt down and held Robin's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Oh wait. I do."

Rage surged through Robin and he suddenly forgot everything he'd learned about fighting fair. He wriggled out of Slade's grasp and took the man's large hands in both of his. Before he could think about what he was doing, he bit him. Hard. Slade grunted and shoved the boy away, observing the trickle of blood beginning to seep through the black material. Robin breathed heavily, partly out of anger, partly out of fear.

"Quite a set of teeth you've got there," Slade said, a bitterness in his voice.

"I didn't-" Robin began but didn't know how to finish. Slade jerked him up by the arm and held his hand out for Robin to see. "Oh, you didn't, huh? That's a pretty big mosquito bump then."

"I'm sorry!" Robin stammered, not knowing what else to say. Even though Slade was calm, it was obvious he was not happy.

"Oh you're going to be," Slade told him. He threw him to the floor. "Take them off."

Robin immediately went to work, removing his boots. He held them up to Slade obediently.

"All of it."

"What?" Robin's eyebrows furrowed.

"Your pants and shirt."

"No!" Robin immediately pulled his shirt tail down, though it already fell below his belt line.

"Do it!" Slade barked. "Or I'm going to get a pair of pliers and pull each one of those pearly whites you put in my hand!"

Robin nervously pulled his shirt over his head and held it in front of him.

"Keep going." Slade grabbed the shirt from him and tossed it aside roughly. He smashed his bloody fist into Robin's face. "Or I will break that jaw of yours."

Robin slowly loosened the drawstring of his sweat pants, but did not do anything else. He wouldn't. Slade could break his fucking jaw.

"Done already?" Slade asked.

Robin shook his head, not really paying attention to the question, just wanting to show he meant no. The man grabbed him roughly by his hair and half marched, half dragged him over the wall. He slammed the back of the boy's head against the concrete and placed his bleeding hand to the boy's mouth. Robin gagged and turned his head.

"_You_ did it!" Slade growled. "Look at what you did!"

"Look at what you did to me!" Robin screamed back, squirming. "You mutilated my skin! You stripped me of everything that meant something to me! FUCK YOU!" He spit on him, and began trying to wriggle free. "I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!!"

"I like to hear that from you, Robin." Slade's voice got quiet. "I really do."

Robin continued to squirm. "YOU'RE SICK! YOU'RE FUCKING SICK!!"

He stopped squirming abruptly when he felt how close the man was to him. Slade's single exposed eye glittered. "Let's find out just how _sick_ I am." He trailed a finger from Robin's bruised cheek down to his neck, down his chest, resting at the waist of the boy's pants. He tugged them slightly. Robin's heart stopped and he tried to kick Slade. "NO!"

Slade twisted the boy's arm. "I don't think you really have a choice, young man." He wiped some of his own blood from the corner of the boy's mouth. "Besides, I'd like to feel your teeth again."

To Be Continued…


	4. What's Best For You

**What's best for you**

**Author's note: I was actually re-reading the previous chapters and it occurred to me that Slade eats **_**and**_** has his mask on. I'd just like to say this is a plot hole I do not care to fix so we're just going to Slade's magical and he can eat with his mask on. And forgive the little spelling and grammar mistakes I sometimes look over. I write a lot of this on my lunch break.**

"No!!" Robin struggled against the man as ferociously as he was held against the wall. Slade easily restrained his upper body and then in one swift motion, kneed the boy right in the groin. Robin immediately ceased all movement and Slade let him drop to the floor. Robin's hands immediately flew between his legs and he trembled and whimpered as Slade knelt down beside him.

"It doesn't feel so good when your opponent doesn't fight fair, does it?" He hissed.

He then stood up, walked over to Robin's discarded shirt and picked it up. He tossed it on Robin, watching it land on the boy's head and said, "Two more months, Robin."

--

Robin lay in bed that night, biting his bottom lip in agony. He longed for a bag of ice to put between his legs, cold water, anything. As much as it hurt, however, he was glad that's all Slade had done. He removed the pillow from behind his head and placed it over his face, breathing heavily. He thought of his friends. He thought of pizza. He thought of videogames. He thought of all night movie marathons. He thought of his own gym, his own room. He was terribly homesick for all of it, and though he felt like crying, he didn't. He was too drained, too tired. He rolled off the bed, wincing slightly at the sudden fire in his boyhood and marine-crawled over to the far wall. He curled up into a little ball and fell asleep.

--

"Sheets need changed?"

He awoke to Slade's voice, but didn't move. Maybe if he pretended he was asleep, Slade would just go away. It was unlikely, but not impossible.

"No, sir." Robin felt a pillow land on his head. "We're not playing _that_ game. Get up."

Robin sat up, sighing through his nose. Slade eyed the bed and then him. "What happened last night?"

The boy only shrugged his shoulders. He expected Slade to get angry about it, to demand an explanation, but he said nothing else about it.

"Take a shower, get dressed, and meet me in the gym."

Robin did as he was told and was surprised that Slade did not give him his boots once in the gym. He stood there in his black workout shirt and shorts, waiting for something to happen, _anything_. Slade, however, only hem-hawed around in his mysterious cabinet without a word.

"You know, Robin," he finally spoke without even turning around. "You've had your good days here, and you've had your bad days here."

'What good days?' Robin thought bitterly, but said nothing.

"And I've been going fairly easy on you." Slade turned around and Robin's eyes widened. The masked man was holding a large knife with a long, sharp blade. It was half the size of a sword.

He subconsciously backed up as Slade moved towards him. "I think it's time we get a bit more serious," the man hissed.

"You're…"Robin found it hard to even get the words out. "You're going to _stab_ me?"

It seemed a little extreme, even for Slade. Slade himself must have thought so too because he chuckled.

"No, Robin," he assured him. "I'm not going to stab you."

He snapped his fingers and two robots entered the gym carrying a large crate. Robin watched curiously as they went to work unhinging the latches and a large, panting dog scampered out, wagging its tail.

"You're going to stab the dog?!" He asked in disbelief. "That's horrible!"

Slade chuckled again. "I never said I was going to stab anything," he said.

"Then…" Robin was confused. "What's the knife for?"

"Oh that." Slade looked bored. "_You're_ going to kill the dog."

"What?!" Anger surged through Robin and he clenched his fists. "No! I would never-"

"Never say never," Slade interrupted him. He then nodded his head at the robots and they briefly disappeared. When they returned, one of them was carrying a small, crying boy. He looked no older than three or four years old.

"NO!!" Robin roared, charging forward, but Slade grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

The robot set the child down who looked as terrified as anything. Robin struggled against Slade's grasp.

"You have a choice," Slade said calmly, still holding him. "You can either kill the dog or I can kill the child."

"The hell you will!" Robin flipped himself nearly upside down , the balls of his feet coming in contact with the bottom of the masked man's face. Slade's head jerked back and he stumbled slightly, releasing Robin. The Titan raced forward and scooped the child up, and with his acrobatic skills, he jumped partly from the cement wall to grab hold of a beam. It was difficult to swing up and onto it with one arm and extra weight, but he managed. The little boy wailed and Robin hugged him to his side.

"It's going to be alright," he told him, looking down at Slade.

"I suggest you get down here and kill this dog," the masked man looked back up at him. "You know as well as I do the only way that child gets out of here alive is with my say so."

On one hand, Robin wanted to tell Slade to fuck off, but on the other, he knew he was right. With a defeated growl, he jumped down and walked over to a far corner. The little boy was reluctant to let go of him, and as Robin gently pried him off he said, "Listen." He knelt down to be eye-level with the child, placing his hands firmly on tiny, shaking shoulders. "I need you to sit here, turn around, close your eyes, and cover your ears, okay?"

The little boy nodded, doing as he was told. Robin dragged himself over to Slade who handed him the knife.

"Can't I have a gun?" He pleaded weakly, staring at the blade.

"And turn it back on me?" Slade turned him around to face the dog. "I don't think so."

The dog was large, but looked friendly. He trotted over to Robin, who knelt down and held out his hand. The dog licked it as he stood there, panting and wagging his tail.

"Please, Slade." Robin turned to the man, his eyes begging more than his words.

Slade only shook his head. "I can't go soft on you this time."

Robin turned back to the canine, trying to decide the best way to do it. The most humane way. Strangle it? Break its neck? He held the knife before him, part of his reflection glinting against the shiny surface. And idea struck him and he did a back flip, lunging at Slade with the weapon. He was stopped in his tracks when he saw the child in the man's arms.

"Wrong target," Slade said coldly. He then pulled a gun from what seemed like nowhere and held it to the child's head. "Do it," he ordered.

"Don't make him watch!" Robin half demanded, half begged.

"NOW." Slade's finger pressed against the trigger.

"Please don't make me-"

The gun cocked.

"Slade, please!"

His finger tugged.

"Stop it!"

It tugged harder.

"DON'T!"

--

Robin didn't know which sounded worse-the cry of the dog, or the cry of the child. He stood there, blood on his bare hands and legs, an equally bloody knife in his hand. The dog lay on the floor, whimpering, and through clouded eyes, Robin did it again and again, hoping the animal would just hurry up and die. The little boy sobbed as he watched, and when it was all over, Slade set the child down and the two robots returned.

"Return him to the city," he ordered.

One of them picked up the hysterical boy and they disappeared once more.

"What a sight." Slade walked over to Robin, taking the knife from his hand. "What a delicious display of slaughter."

"I can't believe you did that," Robin said quietly, staring at the mutilated corpse.

"Don't you mean _you_?" The man nudged the dead animal with his boot.

"You made me!" Robin screamed, throwing a punch at him. Slade caught his fist and twisted his arm. "Maybe you'll learn to get serious now," he said calmly.

--

Robin didn't eat that night. He just stared at his plate, his hands glued to his lap. Slade looked up at him briefly. "You were following orders, that's all," he told him.

"I've never killed anything before." Robin felt his breathing become clotted and his eyes became wet. Before he could gain any kind of composure, he began to cry. It was painfully embarrassing, but he couldn't seem to stop. He wiped his eyes furiously with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming. Slade only swirled his whine around in his glass and said, "Come here, Robin."

The boy shook his head.

"NOW."

Robin got up and walked around to the end of the semi-long table. Slade picked up his napkin and wiped the boy's face. This only made Robin feel worse and it showed because he began to blubber all over again. Slade stood up and said, "Let's take you to your room."

When they reached to by's room, Slade pointed to the bed. Robin sat down.

"You know, Robin," Slade said, smoothing out the unmade covers. "If you'd just quit being so stubborn, you wouldn't have to kill."

Robin only wiped his eyes. 'Don't listen to him!' His mind screamed. '_He's_ in the wrong, not you!'

Slade eyed him, knowing he was thinking about it. "If you'd just accept it," he explained. "I would give you your bo staff back, I would allow you to wander the base freely, to train by yourself whenever you liked."

Robin thought about it for a moment. "I could train by myself?" He asked meekly.

Slade nodded. Robin knew he shouldn't consider it, but he couldn't help it. What more did he possibly have to lose? He'd already been starved, beaten, branded, hit by a car, kicked in the groin, forced to kill. What was left? 'Your dignity!' His mind barked. 'Your self-respect!'

He shook his head and backed away from Slade, getting off the bed. "No!" He started crying again, but this time, his tears were out of anger. Tears of unfair rage.

"Why me?!" He screamed, smacking his hand into his chest. "I don't have powers! I'm not big!" He walked over to the wall and kicked it hard, his toes burning in pain. He leaned his head against the cold cement, his sore foot rubbing against his other one. "Why _me_, Slade?" He whispered.

He jumped slightly, but didn't fight as the man's large hand touched his shoulder and pulled him away from the wall.

"Who says you have to have powers to be a worthy fighter?" He tilted Robin's chin up with his fingers. "Look at me," he ordered. Robin looked at him sullenly.

"Think it over, Robin." Slade released him roughly. "Consider what's best for you."

To Be Continued…


	5. Pit of Despair

**Pit of Despair**

For the first time in his life since the death of his parents, Robin was truly afraid. Every morning when he looked in the mirror, the circles under his eyes got darker and darker. His hair was also shaggy now and he could hardly keep it gelled up. He dug around in the cabinet behind the bathroom mirror and was actually surprised to find a pair of scissors. They were tiny, and the blades were dull, but Robin could care less. He chopped away the longish hair, watching himself in the reflection begin to look somewhat more normal. More _familiar_. It wasn't a fantastic, job, but it was decent.

Robin also began to daydream. He had never been very spacey nor had much of an imagination, but now, locked up in a small, gray room at least sixty percent of the day…well, things changed. He sat on his bed for hours at a time fantasizing about escape. He would play every detail in his head as if it were a movie. He'd even made up characters-bystanders, police, officers, Slade's executioner. He had no more reality, so he relied on fantasy. He couldn't tell if it was keeping him sane or making him _insane_.

--

"I see you cut your hair," Slade commented after they were finished with training that afternoon.

Robin nodded, looking down at the floor as he removed his boots. Would Slade be angry? Would he punish him? Robin could only imagine the cruel methods. He wouldn't even be surprised if the man decided to scalp him.

"Did I give you permission to do that?" Slade asked, his voice perfectly calm.

"No," Robin replied quietly, his eyes still glued to the floor.

"Then why did you feel the need to it?"

Robin frantically searched his mind for a plausible answer. He didn't want to look like a ten-year old? He wanted to stay recognizable?

"I can't fight with unkempt hair," he finally mumbled, pausing in removing his other boot, waiting for Slade's reaction.

The man only snapped his fingers impatiently and Robin handed him the shoe. He stood up as Slade began to move away and the man stopped abruptly.

"Tell me, Robin, what do you think of yourself?" He asked. "As my apprentice?"

The boy said nothing. He almost did, though. Without even thinking about it, the words were pushing against his tightly closed lips. Slade stared at him. "No thoughts at all?"

"You know what I think," Robin said quietly, turning away from the man's gaze.

"Enlighten me," Slade almost sounded amused.

"I hate it!" Robin spat. "I'm miserable and angry and afraid all the tim-" he stopped immediately and Slade's eye glittered. He walked over to the boy and leaned into his face. "What was that last one again?" He inquired quietly, but mockingly.

"I'm not afraid of you," Robin lied, trying to step backwards, but Slade caught his wrist.

"Tell the truth, Robin," the man commanded. "Just admit it and things will be so much easier for you."

Robin only shook his head. He had too much pride to stoop that low. He tried to pull out of the masked man's grasp, not fighting necessarily, just tugging. Slade twisted his arm and repeated more sternly, "Say it."

"No." The boy shook his head again, wincing slightly.

"I can break it, you know." The man twisted harder.

"What did I do?" Robin asked, his voice strained. "What did I do to piss you off this morning?" He suddenly felt anger surge through him and it blinded his common sense. "All I did was wake up and do everything you goddamn told me to!" He kicked the man in the shin, and of course, his bare feet against Slade's heavy armor did little to inflict any damage. This only seemed to frustrate him more and he continued to aggress on the man with his free arms and legs.  
"Stop it," Slade said, as if he were embarrassed for Robin. He took hold of the boy's other hand and added, "Terra was never even this pathetic."

Robin stopped, and screamed, "You never did ANY of this shit to Terra!" He began struggling and fighting again.

"How would you know?" Slade was provoking him now. "You weren't here."

"Because if that were true she would have been glad to get the fuck away from you!" The teen yelled.

"I am going to give you ten seconds to calm down," Slade told him.

"FUCK OFF!!"

"Ten…"

"I DON'T CARE!!"

"Nine…"

"YOU'RE PSYCHOTIC! THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT! YOU'RE INSANE!!"

"Eight…"

"JUST KILL ME!! THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT!! YOU WANT ME DEAD!!"

"Seven…"

"STOP COUNTING!!"

"Six…"

"STOP IT!!"

"Five…"

"LET ME GO!!"

"Four…"

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!!"  
"Three…"

"I HATE YOU!!"

"Two…"

"NO!!"

"One…"

"SLADE!!"

To both Robin and Slade's reply, Robin flew against the man, digging his fingers into the man's uniform, as if something had scared him from behind. Slade's gaze fell down to Robin, who kept his face buried in his uniform. The boy's legs were shaking like crazy and he was sweating.

"Robin," he placed a hand on the boy's vibrating back. "You sounded scared." He pulled him closer and asked more quietly, "Are you scared?"

Robin only nodded, and then realized what he was doing. He pulled away from him and tugged at his hair ferociously. He clawed at his head and fell to his knees. "Can I just go back to my room?" He asked with a strained sigh.

"I'm all you have now, Robin." Slade approached him. "All your nightmares, all your fears, all your worries, all your rage…" he grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair. "You only have me to run to."

--

Time continued to drag by and hours turned into days. Whether days turned into weeks or not, Robin would never know. As far as he knew, time had stopped all together. He knew now, that if he ever got out, he would never be the same. He would never feel safe, never feel justified, never feel normal. He would probably never even fight crime again. He would be too afraid Slade would be out there, waiting for him. He had longed for so long to be out of Batman's shadow and be his own super hero, and now he only wanted to be a normal adolescent.

He had given up on fighting Slade. His mind had given up as well. 'Just do what he says,' it would tell him after the man screamed at him or hit him. Three or four times he had used a whip. Like Robin was some kind of animal in need of obedience training. His body could no longer take it, so his mind willingly agreed to surrender. It was always the same now.

'Do what he says'

'You don't want to get hurt again'

'Don't argue with him'

'Don't raise your voice to him'

Robin had also done the unthinkable. He had gone on a mission and returned on his own. The robbery location was even within a block of the police station, and Robin had still come back to the building he now knew was his captor's hideout. His mind commanded him. 'Remember the store clerk?' It reminded him bitterly. 'His wife?' 'The dog?'

Slade was beyond being simply pleased. He had completely broken the boy, and was ready to rebuild a new Robin. A Robin that respected his authority. A Robin that feared his presence. A Robin that _wanted_ to be his.

--

"You did rather well today," Slade remarked as they finished training. "You're so much stronger and faster than you used to be."

Robin only nodded, sitting down on the floor to take his shoes off.

"You can keep them," Slade informed him casually. "I think you've earned it." He said it as if he didn't care either way.

Robin paused, considering it, and continued removing them. Without a word, he handed them to Slade. The man took them and carried them over to their usual spot by the wall. Robin stood up, dusting the seat of his pants off, and stared at the back of Slade's head as moved around the training hall, putting weapons back in their place. After a while, he curiously peered back at Robin and asked, "Need something?"

Robin was taken aback by the question. He suddenly felt awkward, nervous even, wondering if he was standing in the right spot. He scooted about half a foot and when Slade continued to stare at him, he shook his head. He wasn't really sure of what to say. Wasn't he _supposed_ to be where Slade was? It's not like he had the right to do whatever he pleased.

"Do you whatever you please," Slade suddenly contradicted the thought. "You came back to me when you had the chance to escape." His eye glinted. "I trust you now, Robin."

The words confused the boy, making his head and chest hurt. He was…_free_? He wasn't sure what the man's limits on 'whatever you please' were exactly, and that frightened him. What if he left the building and Slade became angry?

So Robin stood there, feeling foolish and confused. When Slade finished, he walked past the boy, casually rumpling his hair. "If you need me, I'll be in my monitor room."

"No!" Robin begged, not sure why. For some reason, this was all too confusing, all too scary.

" 'No'?" Slade repeated, a trace of amusement in his voice. He turned to face the boy. "Why, Robin, what ever do you mean?"

Robin knew something was wrong. Something inside of him clawed at his skin, making it tremble. In theory, he should've wanted nothing more than this. The freedom to become his own person again. To do what he wanted, when he wanted to do it. Reality, however, was a different story. It had only been a few months, but to Robin, the harsh punishments and isolation had seemed like a lifetime. As much as he hated Slade, he felt he could not function without the man's say so. For so long, he ate if Slade allowed it. He slept if Slade allowed it. He _breathed_ if Slade allowed it.

"Would you like to accompany me?" Slade asked.

Robin only nodded, suddenly feeling like a toddler not wanting to be left with the babysitter. Slade turned back, starting to walk away, and Robin followed him.

--

Harry Harlow had once performed a series of experiments to simulate human clinical depression in animals. He had isolated baby monkeys, locking them up for long periods of time in the dark without food, water, or social contact of any time. The monkeys often sat huddled in a corner, even when water was offered. After a certain period of time, the monkeys would be offered a choice. Food and water, or to be held or given a fur. The monkeys always chose to be held or be given the fur over the nourishment.

Animals, humans and monkeys alike, need something more than physical nourishment. They need to feel safe, to feel secure, to feel something else there.

Slade was now pleased that he had successfully proved the theory correct without monkeys. He had used the forbidden experiment-a human being.

He sat in the large chair within his monitor room, pretending to stare at the display screens that showed him different parts of the city. From the corner of his eye, however, he watched Robin, who sat on the floor, nearly at his feet. It was as if it were the most normal thing in the world to the boy. Like the baby monkeys, Robin had chosen something else over his own freedom. All because he no longer knew any better.

He only had one test left to prove Robin was broken….

To Be Continued…


	6. Wake Up

**Wake Up**

"Go ahead and call it a day." Slade entered the gym where Robin had been training. "We're having company over for dinner so go take a shower and get ready."

The boy stopped attacking the punching bag and a look of confusion crossed his face. Company? What possible company could _Slade_ have? He glanced at the man, as if expecting an explanation, but Slade just barked, "_Today_, Robin."

After he showered, Robin waited obediently in his room for Slade to come and get him. When the man did come, he shook his head slightly at Robin's appearance, but said nothing about it. They left the room and traveled to the dining room where two men were already seated, sipping wine and talking. They were both big and solid-one black, the other white. The black man was bald, with a green and black skull tattooed on the back of his shiny head. He was also wearing brass knuckles. The white man was equally scary. He had long, white-blonde hair and equally white skin and lips. He also had a bionic right hand. They stopped talking and their glances moved to Robin simultaneously, like he was the North Pole and their eyes were magnets. Robin shifted uncomfortably, and Slade placed a hand on his shoulder. "Robin, my associates- Granite and Skull." He then placed his other hand on the boy's other shoulder. "Gentlemen, my apprentice, Robin."

"That's him?" Granite, the white man, scoffed. "He's a shrimp!"

The other man grinned too. "How old are you, Son?"

Robin glanced uneasily at Slade, pleadingly almost. The man nodded. "Don't be shy, Apprentice. Tell them."

"Yah, Kid," Granite wheezed as he laughed. "We don't bite."

"Fifteen," Robin muttered, as Slade signaled for him to sit down.

The three men then indulged into conversation Robin neither understood nor cared about. He sipped at his wine. Skull finally looked over at him and said, "So you're gonna be the big man's successor when he croaks?"

Robin half nodded, half shrugged. The two had become his major source of communication. Slade swirled his wine around and leaned back in his chair. Casually, he remarked, "Robin will make a fine successor." He eyed the boy. "Won't you, Apprentice?"

Again, Robin only nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders. Granite still continued to stare at him. "Why aren't you wearing any shoes?" He asked, eyeing the boy's feet.

Robin glanced at Slade and once more, the man chuckled. "He just doesn't like to wear them," he explained, as if he could not possibly think of a reason.

After dinner and coffee, Granite and Skull lit cigarettes, asking politely if it was alright first. Skull lit a third and offered it to Slade who dismissed the offer with a wave of his hand. He then held it out to Robin. The boy shook his head and Granite scoffed. "Come on! It'll relax ya, Sport!"

Robin shook his head again and Slade said, "Leave him alone." He stood up. "Besides, I want a successor who's not going to hack up his lungs at the age of thirty."

--

After they left, Slade turned to Robin and spoke, "Sorry for the nuisance. Not all business deals are with people you like." He snorted through his mask. "You must have impressed them, though. Granite asked if he could buy you from me."

'Buy me?' Robin thought, horrified. He had never thought of himself as something that could be owned. A hostage, definitely, but property, no. He waited for Slade to give him the okay to return to his room, but Slade suddenly said, "Why don't we try something different with your sleeping arrangements tonight?"

Robin's heart fell into his stomach as the dark room came to his mind. Meekly, he asked, "What did I do?" More frantically, "I hate that room!"

The man flicked his hand . "Not _that_." He just motioned. "Follow me."

Horrible possibilities crossed the boy's mind as he followed Slade. At the same time, he tried really hard to remember if he had done something wrong. Something to displease his captor. Slade's methods of punishment seemed to get more and more creatively brutal every time he though one up. They stopped at a door, and Slade opened it with a key. A red room. The walls, the ceiling, the carpet-all red. A large bed with golden posts and scarlet sheets. Robin grew confused. "You want me to sleep here?"

"Not yet," Slade said, locking the door behind him as they stepped in. Robin tensed, wondering what was happening. Maybe Slade was about to gut him-have his insides match the carpet. The man eyed Robin up and down briefly before ordering, "Stand against the wall." He pointed.

The boy hesitated. "What are you going to do to me?"

"NOW." Slade barked and Robin made his way over to the wall. Slade nodded at him and moved closer, observing him. He reached a finger out and moved it under the boy's chin, raising his head up. "Yes, I think tonight will be perfect."

"For what?" Robin inquired, moving his head away from Slade's touch. "Am I going on another mission?"

"A test," Slade corrected him. Without any warning, he grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair and slammed his head back against the wall. Robin cried out and his eyes widened in fear.

"Get on the bed!" Slade ordered, almost darkly. There was something in his voice. Robin stared at him like he was crazy. "No!" The man twisted his arm this time, making it pop painfully. "Do as I say!"

Part of the boy's mind told him to do as he said and do it fast, but another part ordered him to do the opposite. It told him to fight and that's what Robin did. He bit down on the hand that twisted his arm, forcing Slade to let go, and then dropped down on the floor and crawled past him. He stood up and sprinted to the door, throwing himself against it. Slade jerked him away and half marched, half dragged him over to the bed and threw him on. Robin scrambled to get up, but Slade elbowed him hard, and Robin doubled over, clutching his abdomen.

"Your last test," Slade hissed. "To see if these three months have done anything for you." He pulled him further down the length of the bed by his leg and roughly flipped him over. The obedient half of his brain had finally began to process what was going on and the boy struggled harder to get free, flipping himself back over in the process. Slade struck him in the face and growled, "It is as it is, Apprentice."

"No it's not!" The boy kicked him, and on pure luck, succeeded in hitting the man in the face., knocking off part of his mask. Slade immediately covered the exposed flesh and Robin took the opportunity to roll off the other side of the bed. He quickly looked around for something to fight with and grabbed the first thing he saw-an oil lamp. He smashed it against the desk it rested on, the edges now jagged and sharp. He held it before him like a sword. Slade fixed his mask back in place and said, "You're going to be very sorry, Robin."

"Get away from me!" Robin growled, his legs shaking. Slade stepped closer and Robin tensed. "Go ahead," the man dared him. "Do you worst."

Robin did just that and to his horror, the glass barely stuck in the man's thick suit. Slade scoffed as he pulled ito ut and tossed it aside. He then grabbed Robin by his neck and shoved him towards the bed. Robin fell onto it, and before he could get up, Slade was behind him, punching him hard in the spine, making him fall back down. He flipped the boy over again and held him tightly with his legs.

"No!" Robin struggled as Slade pulled the boy's shirt over his head. He then went for his sweat pants. After he had the boy completely undressed, he slowly went to work on his own belt. After all, he didn't need to fully undress.

"Slade!" Robin now begged. "Please don't! I'll give you anything you want!"

"Right now, dear boy," Slade oozed. "I only want one thing from you." His finger circled around Robin's belly button. "And I have it."

--

After all was said and done, Slade zipped his pants up and sighed. Robin painfully and shakily redressed as well-ignoring his underwear because he didn't immediately spot them and wasn't going to waste any time searching for them.

"Going back to your room?" Slade asked, laying down on the bed, his arms behind his head.

Robin only nodded solemnly and took a step back Slade moved to unlock the door.

--

He had never cried so hard in his life. He curled up in his nest of blankets on the floor, sobbing so hard his stomach hurt. He ached terribly in his torso and though he had taken a long shower, he still felt dirty. He felt as if something toxic flowed through his insides like the colorful globs in a lava lamp. And Slade. He felt more tears burn in his eyes as he recited the name in his mind. His mind, which had recently been two arguing thought processes, was now one and it told him one thing. 'Get out.' He cried harder but his mind spoke harshly, 'Get your ass up and get out now or the bastard will kill you.'

"He'd never be that nice," Robin said quietly, but bitterly.

'You'll end up killing yourself then', his mind retorted. 'And that way, he still wins.'

So Robin wiped his snotty face on his blankets and sat up. He dug around in his dresser drawers until he found a long sleeved shirt and changed out of his tshirt into the new one. He sorely made his way to the bathroom and took the tiny, dull scissors as well and slipped them into his pocket. Quietly, he opened the door to his room and made his way down the hallway that would eventually be the exit. Of course, the exit led him to an underground maze practically, but he knew if he got far enough, Slade would have no time to catch him. He slipped into the gym, looking all around before making his way to the forbidden cabinet. It was locked, of course, but Robin retrieved the tiny scissors and went to work. He almost grinned as the lock clinked and snapped free. He yanked the door open and his eyes widened. Inside was an array of guns, whips, handcuffs, ointment, and the blindfold glinted in the dim light. Below it was his old uniform, folded nice and neat. Resting on top of it was his utility belt. He took the belt and wrapped it around his waist, fastening it tightly. He then took the gun and checked it for bullets. They were in there, but he wasn't going to risk firing one to see if they were blanks or not. He frowned at the whip and the thin, silvery lines that were still healing on his back burned. He took it out of the cabinet and hid it nicely under a mat in the far corner of the gym. He traveled out of the large room, and slinked to the darker part of the corridor-the exit. He sighed shakily as he pushed on the door. Just as it began to open, he heard Slade's icy voice. "Going somewhere?"

To Be Continued….


	7. Time

**Time **

"Going somewhere?"

Robin started to turn around, but his mind screamed, 'GO! NOW!' So he did. He slammed himself against the door that was already ajar and sprinted out, stumbling slightly. He didn't listen for Slade, and he certainly wasn't going to stop and see if the man was following him. He just kept running, but to where, he wasn't sure. The tunnel was dark, but cracks in the roof-which was really below the street, gave some light. Some _hope_. He finally stopped to catch his breath, and his legs were shaking. His eyes darted around wildly, and he relaxed slightly, seeing no sign of Slade. He was too smart to start walking, so he jogged instead, trying to keep a quick pace incase his captor did decide to follow him. Incase he _was_ following him. He heard a noise and whipped around, ready to strike. His gaze fell to a rat, which chewed on its fur. He sighed and kept going, not really walking, but not running either. His lower body still ached terribly, and he knew he was physically bruised.

_"You want this, Robin," Slade hissed, moving his hand all over Robin's lower body. "You know you want this."_

"_Leave me alone," Robin begged, shaking his head, closing his eyes. "Please, Slade, just leave me alone!"_

He stopped walking and listened for any signs of Slade. After listening to about five minutes of himself breathing, he sat down, panting heavily. The ground was slightly damp, but he barely noticed.

_"Open your eyes, Robin," Slade commanded in a whisper. "I want to see those pretty blues."_

_Robin only shook his head, his eyes closed tightly. He felt Slade strike him across the face, but he still did not open his eyes. This was a bad dream, this wasn't happening._

He continued his way around the underground tunnel system, marking his path with the tiny scissors by etching a line in the cement walls. He was happy that he never came across one twice. At least he knew he was not going in circles.

_Robin bit his bottom lip so hard it bled as he felt a sudden stabbing sensation. It was so painful! His breath caught in his throat, begging to be released in the form of scream. He did not want to give Slade that satisfaction. He kept his arms stiffly at his sides, his head turned, his eyes closed, and his fingers clawing into the red sheets._

"_Throw everything away, Robin," Slade whispered in his ear. "You know you belong here with me. I would kill for you."_

Traffic. Robin's heart stopped. He heard traffic. Cars. People drove cars. That meant there were people! His heart suddenly sped up and he looked around frantically, wondering how he could get to that noise. He broke into a run, looking at the top of the tunnel the entire time, hoping to see a manhole lid or something similar that would get him out of this catacomb. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back and stumbled forward, his face coming painfully in contact with the wet cement. He got to his knees and turned around. He felt like throwing up.

"Did you hide the whip because it was your favorite?" Slade asked, swishing the device around teasingly. He moved closer. "Is that how much you love pain, Robin?"

"No," Robin whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. He turned over and began to crab-walk backwards, scared to take his eyes off the man. Slade continued to advance towards him, slowly, running his hand down the length of the whip. Robin was now against the wall, still slightly trying to move.

"Honestly, Robin," Slade sounded unimpressed. "I take you in, I train you to follow in my footsteps, and you _still _act ungrateful."

Normally, Robin would have exploded with things the man had forgotten to mention; the abuse, the isolation, the fact that Robin did _not_ want any of it. However, the whip changed the entire situation. He just stared up at Slade, his heart pounding so hard he expected it to fly straight out of his chest.

"What do I have to do to make you learn your place?" Slade used an annoyingly calm tone. "Any ideas?" He glanced at Robin. "No? Well," he raised the whip. "I have a few." Robin closed his eyes as it came down and cried out when he heard it crack down on him, licking him in the soft spot between his shoulder and collarbone.

"Maybe I'll be generous," Slade began circling around him, like a lion. "Maybe if you stand up right now and follow me back, I won't have to use this ever again." He glanced at the boy, who was clutching his bleeding shoulder. "Should I be generous, Robin?"

_"Scream, Robin," Slade whispered, his voice thick with lust. "I command it."_

"_No!" Robin growled through gritted teeth. "No!"_

"_Scream!" Slade squeezed his arm, hard. "Now!"_

_Robin screamed._

Robin slipped his free hand into his pocket and fingered the cold metal within. Slade raised the whip once more, and the gun came out, aimed straight at the man. Robin stared up at him, panting, his hand trembling. The man lowered the whip and squinted his eye slightly. "You don't really think you can kill me with that, do you?" He scoffed softly.

"You said next time they wouldn't be blanks!" Robin slid up the wall, getting to his feet, the gun still aimed.

"Did you honestly believe me?" Slade stared the boy in the eye. "Did you think I would actually trust you to be skilled enough to survive in such a situation?"

Robin actually laughed, shaking his head. "I can survive worse, apparently." He squinted, his hand still shaking. "I survived living without food, without water, without people." He felt his anger bubbling under his skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. "I've survived being beaten! I've survived being forced to kill!" He was shaking all over now. "I've survived having everything taken away from me!" He was screaming now, his voice cracking hoarsely. "I think I could survive a damn blindfold and a bullet!" Without waiting for the man to respond, Robin fired the gun, and his breath caught in his throat. Blood splattered on his face. Slade's free hand trailed over his chest, where blood seeped out of a wound. He stared at Robin. "Very good, Apprentice." He knelt down and placed the whip on the ground. He stood back up and moved closer to Robin. The boy panicked and fired his gun again and again until it did nothing but click. Slade lay on the ground, face-down. Robin fell onto his bottom and breathed heavily, his fingers still wrapped around the gun tightly, his knuckles white. Tears burned in his eyes and he began to cry, choking and sobbing at once, both scared and relieved. He curled up on the ground and lay there blubbering until he passed out.

"Robin." A gruff, deep voice. The boy's eyes opened. No, it couldn't be. He killed him. Gloved hands touched him and he began to struggle, kicking and elbowing. The grip tightened on him.

"No!" He cried. "No! Leave me alone! Just let me go!"

"Robin!" The hands shook him slightly. "Robin!" A slight hesitation. "_Dick_!"

The boy stopped struggling. Slade never called him that. Only…

He jerked his head up to see a black mask staring down at him. A black suit. A bat emblem. The gloved hand wiped sweaty hair away from the boy's forehead. Robin breathed heavily, his eyes stinging with fresh tears. Batman didn't say anything. He just pulled the boy against him, and held him tightly, rocking him slightly. Robin pulled away slightly and looked around. "Where is he?" He asked.

"Who?" Batman asked, glancing at the empty spot where Robin was staring.

"Slade!" Robin pulled away from him completely. "He was here! I shot him!" He looked at Batman. "His body should be right there!" He began to tremble. "Where'd he go?!"

"There was nobody here, Robin," Batman spoke softly. "Just you."

Robin wanted to scream, to punch something, to kill something…again, but he only maneuvered himself back into Batman's arms, which wrapped around him. The pair sat like that for a good while, and then Batman spoke. "I got your message, but when I came to Jump City, your friends informed me that you had gone missing." He sighed angrily. "We've been looking for you for three months now."

Three months? That was all? It felt more like three years. Three lifetimes, even. Robin didn't say anything. He just leaned against his adoptive father, glad that somebody besides Slade was finally here. Batman prodded him slightly. "Come on, let's get out of here."

--

As they climbed into the Batmobile waiting above, Robin asked hesitantly, "Are you taking me back to Titans Tower?"

Batman shook his head and patted the boy's knee. "Not tonight. We're going to Gotham."

Robin leaned back against the seat, sighing in relief. Not that he didn't want to see his friends. He just didn't want to see them _tonight_. He didn't want to be anywhere in Jump City. He wanted to be as far away as possible. Gotham wasn't far, but it was far enough. Alfred was waiting when they got to the mansion, and Robin guessed he was instructed not to ask any questions because he didn't. He took Robin to the bathroom and removed the boy's shirt, which had painfully stuck to the open wound on his shoulder. He dabbed gently at it with a cloth soaked in ointment and Robin winced slightly as he did so. Bruce entered the bathroom as well, knocking on the doorframe first. His eyes widened in horror, trailing the marks on the boy's bare back and chest. The bruises, the lash marks, the cuts. He looked at Alfred. "Let me," he said, taking the cloth. Alfred didn't even seem surprised. "Could you fix him something to eat?" Bruce asked. The kind butler nodded and left the bathroom. Bruce then began to apply the medicine himself, just as gently. Robin caught a glance of himself in the mirror and quickly looked away. Bruce seemed to notice because he paused and said softly, "Dick, look at me."

Robin shook his head. He half expected the man to strike him for doing so, but then it dawned on him that this was not Slade. Bruce pushed some of the boy's sweaty hair out of his face. "It's going to be okay, son." He continued to apply the medicine and then left the bathroom. When he came back, he was holding a t-shirt and flannel pants-Robin's pajamas. He also had a pair of boxers. "Wanna go ahead and get your night clothes on?" He asked.

Robin hesitated, and then nodded. Bruce left the bathroom and Robin looked around uneasily, half expecting to see Slade behind him. He dressed quickly and practically flew out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He made his way down the stairs and Alfred smiled at him from the dining room where he had just set down a bowl of soup and some crackers. "Would you like to try and eat, Master Richard?" He asked.

Robin numbly walked over to the table and stared down at the bowl. He took a small sip and that sat down to finish the soup. He ate about half of the food and then Bruce brought him a chocolate pudding cup. Robin ate that too, eating all of it, even scraping the sides. After he was finished, he looked between the two men. Alfred collected his dishes and walked away, patting the boy on his good shoulder. Bruce asked, "Want to go sit on the couch?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Robin said quietly, pleadingly. "Not tonight."

"We don't have to," Bruce replied gently. "Why don't we just go sit? See what's on TV?"

Like a shy child, Robin allowed himself to be led to the living room hand in hand by his adoptive father and together they sat on the sofa. The sofa they had sat on many of times to watch television or discuss Robin's homework or just to bear hug and wrestle. Now they just sat quietly, the grandfather clock ticking loudly in the background. Bruce clicked the TV on with the remote, and though they both stared at the screen, it was obvious neither of them knew what was on.

"Can I go take a shower?" Robin suddenly asked. Bruce seemed surprised that he would ask, but nodded and said, "Sure you can."

--

_"Let me let you in on a little secret, Robin," Slade bent his arm back, making Robin cry out even more. "I've been very patient with you. Extremely patient." He held his firm grasp on the boy's arm, which was now starting to turn a faint purple. "But even my patience wears thin, and I've just about had with your defiance."_

Robin allowed the hot water to sting his back as he stood under the showerhead. None of it seemed real. Was he really free of Slade? Was this all a dream? How was he supposed to feel? Surely not empty like this. Surely he shouldn't still feel miserable and scared…should he?

_Robin growled painfully as the needle came into contact with his flesh, tracing the S. After it was done, Slade released the boy's hand and Robin immediately brought the aching wound to his lips. Slade chuckled. "It's not something that washes off, Robin."_

He felt tears slide down his cheeks and go down the drain with the rest of the water. What had become of Slade's body? Did he really kill him? Did Slade kill _him_? Was he the one that was dead and that's why everything still felt so strange?

_He stopped squirming abruptly when he felt how close the man was to him. Slade's single exposed eye glittered. "Let's find out just how sick I am." He trailed a finger from Robin's bruised cheek down to his neck, down his chest, resting at the waist of the boy's pants. He tugged them slightly. Robin's heart stopped and he tried to kick Slade. "NO!"_

He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, wiping his wet eyes with the back of his equally wet hand, both wet with shower water and tears. He dried his hair and then wrapped the towel around his waist. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and allowed himself to stare. He felt nauseous with each mark and cut he visually came across. The one on his shoulder was the freshest, the worst.

_Robin didn't know which sounded worse-the cry of the dog, or the cry of the child. He stood there, blood on his bare hands and legs, an equally bloody knife in his hand. The dog lay on the floor, whimpering, and through clouded eyes, Robin did it again and again, hoping the animal would just hurry up and die. The little boy sobbed as he watched, and when it was all over, Slade set the child down and the two robots returned._

He dressed back into his pajamas and sat on the floor, holding his damp towel in his lap. Was this all a dream? Would he wake up and still be on the floor of his tomb of a room? Would he wake up and have Slade staring down at him?

_"I'm all you have now, Robin." Slade approached him. "All your nightmares, all your fears, all your worries, all your rage…" he grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair. "You only have me to run to."_

He made his way back downstairs and Bruce looked up at him from the sofa. "Water hot enough?" He asked, unsure of what to say. They both were unsure. Robin nodded and stood there, unsure of what to _do_. Bruce stood up too and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ready to go to bed maybe? Or you want me to get you a book?"

"I'll go to bed," Robin said quietly. He allowed Bruce to lead him to his old room, which was cluttered, but clean. Robin looked around the walls which held posters of famous skateboarders and motor-cross bikers. He glanced at his bed, which had soft blue blankets and sheets.

_"Right now, dear boy," Slade oozed. "I only want one thing from you." His finger circled around Robin's belly button. "And I have it."_

He gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and Bruce asked, "Need a glass of water? Milk?" Robin only shook his head. He climbed under the covers and his adoptive father patted his arm. "If you need anything, I'm right downstairs, okay?"

Again, Robin only nodded his head. Bruce leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Right downstairs, son." With that, he walked over and turned the light off, leaving the door open halfway.

Robin glanced around, afraid he might see Slade leaning against one of the walls, his mask glinting in the darkness. There was nothing, however, and the boy relaxed slightly. He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes. The scent of Wayne Manor on his pillows suddenly seemed to flow through him, loosening the lava lamp globs inside of him, suddenly making him seem lighter. He drifted off to sleep thinking of his friends back in Jump City, Batman, and his freedom. The freedom he was a little scared of because he had not had it in so long. When his parents had died, he had been told that time was an excellent healer. In Slade's lair, there had been no sense of time, but Robin was out, and time exhibited once again. He decided, that in time, he would be healed.

The End…


End file.
